FOR ANYONE THAT NEEDS IT… I don’t usually get too caught up in ‘celeb
FOR ANYONE THAT NEEDS IT… I don’t usually get too caught up in ‘celebrity mourning’. The loss of someone is tragic, regardless of their occupation. But Robin’s death hit me in a way I never expected, for two deeply personal reasons. First, I literally don’t remember not knowing who Robin Williams was. Even as a child, I remember identifying him as 'the funny man’. My grandmother and I watched him dazzle during The Tonight Show visits, he taught me about friendship in Aladdin, took me on a magical journey in What Dreams May Come, inspired me with Dead Poets Society and gave me a lot to think about in Good Will Hunting. Robin Williams was an active verb in my life. He set a standard that I assumed would be a constant for many more years to come. His death leaves me truly shocked. Still. Which leads me to the second reason. I was first diagnosed with depression at 19. I’d stumbled through a pretty rocky childhood and eventually two years later, it all caught up with me one night when I just didn’t think I could stomach another day of intense sadness. I swallowed a bottle of Tylenol PM. Now, did I want to die? Not really. But that was the only way I could break through this overwhelmingly thick barrier of hopelessness that stood between myself and everyone else. Having your stomach pumped is enough to scar you for life. Trust me on this. More importantly, that and the look of genuine fear in my fathers eyes were enough to make me want to learn how to live with depression. It is a disease. It is not an emotion. And it’s something that with lots of time, self work and consistent effort, anyone can overcome. I am living proof. People with depression often hide in plain sight. In the worst of times, we go about our lives with canned responses, doing just enough to not ring any alarms because when you’re in the thick of it, the answer to everything is, 'what’s the point?’ But, you. That’s the point. You. These days depression is apart of my life much life dieting. It’s an exercise in discipline. Once every four or five months I’ll have one really tough day where it’ll feel like my entire life is going to hell. It’s in those moments where I evoke the emergency response part of myself that’s ready to remind me that I’m not having a bad life, just a bad day. Then I wait it out. Or if I can’t, I call someone. More than anything I’ve learned there is no shame in simply saying, 'I need some help’ or 'I’m having a tough time’ or 'I just need to hear a friendly voice.’ I’m human. And thankfully, so is everyone else. I say all of this because as I reflect on Robin and the brilliant catalog of laughs and lessons he left us, I can’t help but wish he’d remembered that he wasn’t having a bad life. Just one last bad day. And maybe we can all use this as Robin’s final gift to us, a heartbreaking reminder that there is no shame in simply picking up the phone, sending a text, a tweet, a status update or simply walking outside and saying, 'I’m having a thought time.’ Maybe that can be the lesson amidst our confusion and grief…for anyone who needs it. O’ Captain! My Captain! Thank you. -- source link
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